


Blueshift

by PunkHazard



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Star Trek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-05 19:42:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16373834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkHazard/pseuds/PunkHazard
Summary: Shimada activity has slowed-- usually considered good news, if it weren't for the fact that Hanzo is at its helm and Genji knows the Federation hasn't put enough of a dent in the Romulan operation to warrant such a drastic reduction. No roving band of pirates but a repurposed Constitution-class Starship specializing in transport of narcotics and arms to the most unsavory elements of the galaxy. No regard for civilian losses, even less for Federation treaties and planetary laws. Never mind that Genji's related to them.





	1. Chapter 1

Alpha quadrant had always been considered one of the safer quadrants of this galaxy; Genji usually takes his time so close to Federation HQ, familiarizing himself with recent Academy grads and snapping up potentials while the USS Cixin awaits its upgrades. That aside, there is one other reason he visits the hub of Federation intelligence, information from every starship routed through HQ before it's disseminated to each relevant craft. Information exchange is instantaneous, but requesting certain datasets through bureaucratic red tape means he might as well be using _e-mail_ from the farthest reaches of the known universe. Absolutely barbaric.

He encounters Dr. Zhou first on his way through the vast Federation library, hunkered down with one tablet projecting the last three hundred years' worth of atmospheric data from Earth and another showing a map of the ongoing MATS project-- Mars Atmospheric Terraformation Strategy. She's too preoccupied to give him more than a few minutes, reciprocating his warm greeting with an enthusiastic hug before returning to work.

All the better: he's only got an hour before he's due to return to the ship.

Shimada activity has slowed-- usually considered good news, if it weren't for the fact that Hanzo is at its helm and Genji knows the Federation hasn't put enough of a dent in the Romulan operation to warrant such a drastic reduction. No roving band of pirates but a repurposed Constitution-class Starship specializing in transport of narcotics and arms to the most unsavory elements of the galaxy. No regard for civilian losses, even less for Federation treaties and planetary laws. Never mind that Genji's related to them.

Jesse had passed him a tip, a lead from his last disembarkation on a nearby water planet, and Commander Reyes had given the go-ahead to pursue it. Remnants of a Shimada outpost, hastily dismantled. The USS Cixin isn't an explorer the likes of the Enterprise, traveling the galaxy to make first contact and gather information. They take the opportunity as it arises, but its primary directive is peacekeeper.

Athena scans the last month's worth of communications for any recent reports, whatever violence that hasn't been directly linked to the Shimada but resembles its M.O. enough to be suspect.

He comes away with three good leads in the pocket of his Federation issue uniform, unconfirmed hits but a clearly established pattern. Genji boards the Cixin with about three minutes to spare, probably the last officer to make it aboard ahead of an ensign and one pair of medical personnel.

He stops in the main corridor's entrance to wait for Zenyatta, unclipping his mouthguard in the filtered air and tucking it under his arm as the omnic approaches and extends a fist for him to bump. His companion, a science officer Genji recognizes as a recent transfer from the USS Aguilera, gives his hand for a more formal shake.

"Lieutenant Shimada," he says, firmly clasping Genji's prosthetic right hand, "right?" No hesitation at all, and Lúcio's eyes don't linger on Genji's scars, his tattered left ear, the messy shock of dark hair sweeping back from his helm, or the cybernetic scaffolding visible over the collar of his uniform all across the back of his neck. 

"Dr. Santos," Genji answers with a nod, letting go and stepping away. He gives the newcomer a long, appraising look. "I'm sorry we haven't been properly introduced; the bridge has been very busy."

"Just Lúcio's fine." He laughs awkwardly at the address, plucking at the sleeve of his shirt. "I'm in the science division," he explains, "embedded with the medical unit. We did some upgrades on the Aguilera that the Federation wanted to test on other ships, so I'm sticking with them until everyone's familiarized."

"That would explain your uniform," Genji murmurs. "Have you spoken to Dr. Ziegler and Commander Amari yet? The captain?"

"Yeah, on all counts."

"Good." Genji claps Zenyatta on the shoulder, gives Lúcio a polite nod as he turns away. "Then I will see you in the med bay."

"Don't you mean," Lúcio calls after him, lips quirked in a wry smile, "you hope you _won't_ be seeing me?"

Genji raises one arm without turning back, gives them a lazy wave as he heads for the bridge. 

"Do not worry," says Zenyatta, somehow able to inflect his voice with an affectionate eye roll, "we will be seeing much of Genji in the medical bay regardless of his condition."

* * *

It takes Lúcio about a week to settle into his role, and two weeks after that they're deep in the Gamma quadrant pursuing a rogue Ferengi contingent.

Zenyatta hadn't been joking; Genji seems to be in every other day, sometimes with small injuries or mild pain in his cybernetic joints, but often just to hang around with Zenyatta and Angela and get underfoot. He has a working knowledge of what all the tools and machines do, where the hyposprays and medications are kept, and had been a great help when a nearby solar storm briefly knocked out the Cixin's stabilizers, dozens of crew coming in with concussions and sprains. 

Lúcio learns later, after some questioning, that Shimada joined the Cixin several years ago after some sort of catastrophic accident that left most of his body destroyed, and Angela Ziegler was the one doctor in the Federation skilled enough to save his life. She'd worked with Moira, the Federation's lead biogeneticist and a Kelpien, to build him a cybernetic life support system, and then he'd joined the Cixin with a little convincing from Gabriel Reyes.

He'd spent the first two years in and out of the med bay, still adjusting to the new body and in for weekly maintenance and checks at Ziegler's request. The years after that, he'd come in by choice. 

Angela, who seems to like each member of Reyes's security team well enough _personally_ , often expresses distaste at the way they operate. Zarya and Reinhardt usually stick to the books, well-versed in protocol and skilled enough to make it work. Jesse and Genji often disable their coms altogether and slip away from the scanners, completing missions in record time-- usually concluded with a furious message from some ambassador or planetary official who'd been shaken down for information.

(Morrison leaves them entirely to Reyes, sick to death of their antics but unwilling to formally reprimand them. They are, after all, invariably two of the most effective members of any team.)

* * *

"Number One," Jack sighs, dragging his hand down his face as he regards the planet rotating slowly on screen in front of him, "I'm going to need a briefing."

He'd spent the last three days embroiled in an argument with an admiral over the last diplomatic SNAFU, for once a problem of his own making rather than an issue Reyes had brought down on their heads. Gabriel had taken immense pleasure in reminding him that with the assignments Gabe conducts personally, the Federation can at least deflect anger from its constituent planets off the crew itself. 

Jack's do-gooding had landed him in hot water with another captain, upset that Morrison had taken initiative and defused a conflict with a Cardassian trade vessel instead of waiting on approval from the other Federation representative. He'd received a minor commendation from HQ; the other captain happened to have close family ties to an admiral and couldn't handle being upstaged. 

Ana had, as ever, laughed at him all through their last training session on the holodeck. 'Gabriel might be a bit of a cowboy,' she'd said, ignoring the displeased frown Reyes sent her way at the implication that he and Jesse might have a trait in common, 'but he's never been punished for a good deed.'

'Get back to me if he ever does one,' Jack couldn't help retorting, and then he'd resigned himself to a slightly more merciless round from his second in command. 

On the bridge, Gabe allows the rest of the crew to believe that he's a consummate professional. "We have evidence that these Ferengi are working with Hanzo Shimada," he rattles off, back straight, hands clasped at the small of his back, "to transport modified phasers back to Romulan space. I'm sending a small away team to investigate, possibly gather enough proof to call in a backup and take down this branch of the operation."

Investigative mission. Jack sighs again. "McCree and Shimada are on this team, I'm guessing?" 

"Don't worry, Jack." Gabe answers with a Vulcan's clear, calculated monotone-- the words themselves carrying all the sarcasm and cheek a human could reasonably muster. "Ocean planet, mostly uninhabitable by intelligent terrestrial life, which means it's perfect for 'em."

Jack drags a hand down his face, leaning forward to inspect the image more closely. Yet another water planet, nearly 95 percent ocean scattered with small, lush islands. Hanzo Shimada seems to favor those. "Have Zenyatta go with them. Who knows what's in that water?" 

"Medical is gonna slow them down."

"Better safe than sorry, Gabe." Rubbing his chin, Jack leans back in his seat and pulls up an overlay detailing atmospheric conditions. "But now that you mention it, have you seen some of that tech the new transfer has on hand? Might be useful." 

"I can't tell you whether or not he's gonna work with this team." Reyes glances at Ana, meeting her encouraging quirk of the brow with a wry smile. Lúcio had been her recruit, not-at-all discreetly poached from his former ship. "Might as well test him out on a low stakes recon mission." 

"Get ready to move, Number One."

* * *

Ziegler dogs Gabriel's heels into the bridge, follows him to his seat and pitches her voice low, to avoid disturbing the other officers. To no avail: chatter in the control room goes silent, every face turned conspicuously away and every ear perked. "Genji needs _very_ specialized care," she insists, "Commander, Lúcio hasn't had a chance to familiarize himself with the documentation. I understand that Zenyatta is going with them, but perhaps--"

"He's got a day and a half," Reyes mutters. "Besides, isn't he an engineer?"

"That's hardly enough time." Angela's frown deepens and she crosses her arms, expression hardening. "Even if he has the manual on hand, he may not have time to read it if they run into a true emergency. Lúcio is a very capable officer, but without the necessary preparation--"

Gabriel taps the emblem on his shirt. "Santos."

Lúcio's reply is prompt.

> Yes, sir?

"You ready to move out with this team?" 

A short, thoughtful silence. Lúcio gives a diplomatic answer, no doubt aware of Angela's apprehensiveness.

> Think I can handle it. Been on plenty of away assignments with the Aguilera, and I'm almost through with the material Dr. Ziegler sent me. 

Gabe levels a 'told you so' look at Angela. "Everything goes according to plan," he says to Lúcio, "you and Zenyatta will have nothing to do."

That prompts a resigned sigh from Ziegler. "It never does go according to plan, commander."

To Lúcio: "I'm briefing everyone in the meeting room at 1800." Releasing the emblem, Gabe nods at Angela. "I know you're worried, but you're just gonna have to trust these guys to do their job."

Frowning, Angela regards Gabriel's impassive face, the slightest hint of a smile quirking the corners of his lips. The absolute faith he has in those under his command is distinctly un-Vulcan; the sheer stubbornness of his decisions most certainly is. "I am not questioning their ability," she says. 

"Genji's not defenseless. You're the one who made sure of that, doc." He'd buzzed his hair short in defiance of his Vulcan lineage and embraced humanity, but even raised by humans, the man's calculating, logical nature can't be denied. Gabe taps his heel against the crossbar of his seat, eyeing the way Angela's shoulders pull back, just a bit. "One last thing," he says before dismissing her, "I saw the lights on in your lab at ungodly o'clock this morning, so get some rest. _That's_ an order."

* * *

"The circuitry is actually pretty intuitive," Lúcio explains, after Reyes's questioning of his familiarity with his team's cybernetic prostheses: McCree's arm and a good three-quarters of Genji's body. He'd been browsing the documentation for two days, ever since he was notified of his participation in this assignment. "I trained as a xenotechnician before switching to medical, so it's not too far out there."

He doesn't respond to the curious looks McCree and Genji level in his direction, his own eyes kept on Reyes's face. 

Zenyatta's healing works on a subatomic level that Federation scientists are still studying, able to repair both organic and cybernetic components of sentient beings simultaneously. Lúcio's own sound tech is capable of the same-- if it can be aware of its own injuries, hear and process his music, it can be healed. His father had developed the fundamentals of the technology, and after _liberating_ it from a corrupt intergalactic research group, Lúcio had altered it for his own uses. 

Federation endorsement and protection was just a plus.

"No time for a session on the holodeck," Reyes says, nodding toward Zenyatta, "but I'll be heading down with you all, so just follow orders and try not to die. We all clear?"

Gabe smiles at the chorus of affirmatives he receives-- a sharp, calculating expression that makes the hairs on the back of Lúcio's neck stand on end. 

_Gabriel Reyes_ is a well-known name among Starfleet personnel, a hero of the latest Klingon-Federation War. He, Jack Morrison, and Ana Amari had served under Captain Liao on the Cixin for its duration, each of them having been offered their own command at _some_ point in their careers. They had declined every one until Liao retired from Starfleet, and then the captaincy went to Morrison. At the time, Reyes had been first officer.

Out of respect for his old friend, Morrison had initially declined the promotion. Whatever else happened is strictly confidential, the logs squirreled away deep in Federation HQ archives, but the chain of command is clear now. 

Reyes dismisses them with a nod, clapping both Genji and Jesse on their shoulders as they pass him. The two jostle each other in the doorway, playfully throwing elbows and light kicks to the shins before McCree slips through. Genji drops back to keep pace with Zenyatta, turning down a different hallway toward the mess hall. Zenyatta catches Genji's elbow, and after whatever silent conversation passes between them, Genji calls out, "Lúcio?"

Lúcio looks up from his tablet, idly reorganizing the new information that Reyes had provided them. "What's up?"

"Zenyatta and I are going to review the assignment parameters in more detail over dinner. Would you like to join us?"

"I was heading down there too, so sure."

* * *

'Review assignment parameters' turns out to be much more difficult than Lúcio had anticipated. The mess hall is filled up for dinner, and both Genji and Zenyatta have many friends. They sit at the table after introductions while Genji maintains the air of a man too polite to excuse himself from a table full of coworkers. 

Most of his friends have names that are well known throughout the entire fleet: Hana Song, a young pilot who Lúcio had worked briefly with as he finished his training courses and she first joined the Academy. Efi Oladele, the youngest engineer to ever graduate from Starfleet Academy. Brigitte Lindholm, a mechanic who'd trained with her father-- one of the most experienced technicians in Starfleet command.

Lena Oxton, chief helmsman-- Hana's mentor of sorts. She'd come to fame during the war at a fresh sixteen years old, leading a squad of Klingon vessels on a chase through several wormholes months apart in the continuum until she was nearly lost to the stream as well. 

Fareeha Amari. Ana's daughter, and an accomplished commander in her own right. She'd led a unit of the United Federation Defense Forces until a voluntary transfer to the Cixin. Rumors abound that when Reyes finally decides to accept a captaincy of his own, Fareeha will take his place as Number One, thereby leaving Jack Morrison to the mercy of _both_ Amari women.

"Daehyun sent over the files you asked for," Hana says, leaning almost into Genji's lap toward Brigitte with a holographic projection of her shuttle in hand-- a custom vessel fitted for combat and recon. "I think your mods will work, and I can make the final adjustments." 

Genji catches Lúcio's eye, an apologetic smile on his face as Brigitte shifts in her seat, practically standing for a better look at the projection. "Great!" she answers, sliding into Genji's seat as he discreetly vacates it, "I can't wait to get started."

Efi and Zenyatta are lost in their own conversation, the girl happily probing the depths of Zenyatta's AI, picking his brain for suggestions on how to proceed with her latest fixation: the ORISA Project. Fareeha and Lena are planning a flight simulation on the holodeck after dinner.

All in all, anything Lúcio or Genji could say would be immediately drowned out by the rest of the chatter. Lúcio stands at a gesture from Genji, picking up his tray and following the lieutenant to a nearby table for two. 

"I didn't realize," Genji says, settling into the seat across from Lúcio, "that _everyone_ would be here at this time. My apologies for the interruption."

"It's not your fault," Lúcio insists, half laughing. "You're just popular."

Clasping his hands in front of him, Genji leans forward. The fingers of his organic left hand impatiently tap the titanium-plated knuckles of his prosthetic right. "Regardless. It will be your first away assignment on this ship, so if you have any questions, I can try to answer them."

"You have no idea how happy I am to hear that." Lúcio, ignoring his food to access a list of notes he'd taken on his tablet, leans back in his seat. "So we've gotten the weather data for this island we're touching down on," he says, "but it looks like there's a storm incoming? Isn't that something Commander Reyes would've mentioned?"

Surprise flickers across Genji's expression, but it doesn't last long. Reyes operates frequently on a strict need-to-know basis, often to provide deniability for the officers under his command should they ever need to take drastic non-Federation-approved measures. "He may want to move under cover of the storm," Genji suggests. "We will be harder to track, and the Ferengi will be less focused in the rain."

"Any chance it'll cut off communications with the ship?"

"Yes."

"Is that..." Lúcio's brows furrow, baffled that Genji's so quick to acknowledge that risk but reassured at the even tone of his voice. "I mean, is that gonna be a problem?"

"I don't believe so. But, it has happened before and we handled it."

"I'll take your word for it." A grin. Lúcio looks back down at his notes. "Alright, so, about the humidity tolerance of your cybernetics--"


	2. Chapter 2

Lúcio whistles under his breath as Genji makes his way up the massive trunk of a tree. It's nearly two thousand feet tall, wide as a house. The trees are far apart, but nearly every trunk is that size or larger. Lúcio cranes his head back to see Genji reach for the first, lowest branch, grabbing a thick vine to haul himself up. He's using the bark itself as a hold, fitting both flesh and prosthetic fingers into the rough material, feet braced against its surface. 

Genji moves quickly and easily-- Lúcio might call it _scampering_ if the word didn't seem so out of place in reference to a Starfleet officer. "Can my gear do that too?" he muses, glancing down at his shoes.

"It's not his gear," McCree says. "Just somethin' he does."

"I thought Romulans weren't big on climbing." Far above them, Genji slices through a vine with a knife he pulls from his back pocket, unraveling it from around the branch to secure it to another vine, and then another. Lúcio reaches up as the tendril lowers into his reach, and he tugs lightly on it to test its integrity. "Cyborg thing?" he asks.

Jesse steals a glance at Reyes, noting the bored expression on his face, the lift of one gray-specked brow. "You didn't hear it from me," McCree says, stepping forward to help Lúcio tie the vine to a root the size of his own torso, "but his family used to serve the Romulan royal family. Bodyguards, stealth, assassinations. Smoke 'n mirrors."

Lúcio mulls that over as the next vine comes within reach, and he winds it around the first one before securing it. He turns to Jesse with a flat, incredulous look. "The lieutenant's a ninja."

"'Bout the size of it."

"Romulans have ninjas."

A shrug. 

Lúcio makes space for Reyes as the commander approaches their makeshift ladder, putting one foot up on the bottom 'rung'. "Genji's watching the trees," he says. "Jesse, bring up the rear."

"Copy that, boss."

* * *

The tree looked tall from the ground, and for a man who's been to space Lúcio chafes at the thought that he's _too high up_. He's never had a fear of heights, but looking down from even the lowest branch of this particular tree, he can feel his head spin. Still, he takes the smallest amount of comfort from the way Jesse's knuckles are bone-white, at least one hand clutching a thick vine at all times. Reyes has shifted his center of gravity noticeably lower, his back and shoulders uncharacteristically sloped, knees bent.

Zenyatta... floats. If he's affected by the height, he doesn't show it. Genji seems to come alive at skyscraper heights, shifting smoothly from a wary crouch to stand as the team joins him on the branch. He scouts ahead, picking his way to the next tree and jumping the short gap between branches without a hint of fear. Their perch is large enough that Lúcio barely feels it curve beneath its feet, but he has to fight back a violent flip of his stomach every time he looks down. 

"Alright," Reyes announces when Genji returns, "take a knee." Once everyone's crouched, he prompts Zenyatta with a look. "Latest position?" 

The lights on the omnic's forehead darken, then illuminate from the top, filling in as he processes data from the bridge. Once they're all back to full brightness, Zenyatta addresses the team. "The Ferengi encampment is located on the north-west coast of this island," he informs them. "They appear to be waiting for communication."

"We beamed down here to avoid being detected, but it's a bit of a walk." Reyes cants his head northward, and catches Genji's eye when he looks back. "If patterns hold, they'll be there for three days before the Shimada arrives. Hanzo likes to move in with storms, slip in under Starfleet radars and scanners. He'll beam in, take inventory, then warp out. Doesn't always come down in person, but if he doesn't, we might be able to plant a tracker or pick up a lead."

Lúcio shifts in place, fighting the impulse to ask if they might be talking about the same _Shimada_ as the one on this very team. On his former ship, this was the kind of information he might have received this during the mission brief, not in the field. He had also been told that it was an investigative assignment, and nothing more. 

Neither Genji nor McCree seem surprised, but the former has been conspicuously silent since they beamed down, his expression flat. McCree, in contrast, seems to brighten at the idea that this mission will be more complicated than he'd been led to believe.

"Surveillance," Jesse drawls, a wild grin spreading across his face, "possible engagement. Three days planetside. Camping trip?"

"Camping trip, cowboy. We'll set up a cloaked blind in the trees. Ana's gonna beam down supplies once we've picked a place to surveil from, and we alternate shifts as needed." Reyes seems to be addressing Lúcio specifically, as if the rest of the team were already aware, when he adds, "Once the storm rolls in, don't expect backup from the ship."

Lúcio freezes, mind slowing to a crawl, then kicking into overdrive as the past few days fall into place, everything he'd heard about Morrison and Reyes's conflict. Why Gabriel Reyes might choose to give them the true briefing away from the ship, why they'd be preparing to move when communications from the bridge would be totally cut off. Why Genji and Jesse and even Zenyatta seem so unruffled at the sudden change in mission parameters.

He'd always assumed it was a joke, or an urban legend. Starfleet leadership is careful to deny all knowledge of its existence, and Lúcio privately wonders how he'd gotten himself in over his head _again_.

With Section 31, no less.

* * *

Two hours from his first foray into the canopy, Lúcio's almost used to the height. It took its time and a few close calls, but tree-dwelling distant-ancestor brain kicked in for him once it accepted that they weren't going to be back on the ground anytime soon. Jesse still doesn't seem to have the hang of it, sticking close to the trunks and only leaving them when absolutely necessary. Reyes seems to have adjusted as well, moving cautiously but more easily than when they started. 

Zenyatta, who had by this time summoned a bright golden orb to sit on Jesse's shoulder, travels along at his own measured tempo.

For his own part, Lúcio's nearly able to keep pace with Genji, on his heels as they press into the foliage, balancing across progressively thinner branches as they travel further and further from the ground. "Have you ever considered a career as a ninja?" Genji asks when the rest of the team has fallen far enough behind to be hidden behind clusters of surprisingly average-sized leaves. He looks over his shoulder, corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement.

"If you wanna write me a recommendation to ninja school," Lúcio shoots back, a little breathless, "I'm not gonna say no."

Genji laughs-- or what passes for a laugh, a short ' _hm!_ ' as he crouches, then launches himself to snag the next branch on his route and swing himself up. Lúcio can feel his own perch dip under the force of Genji's jump, bounce as it recovers, and he makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat as he regards the lieutenant staring down at him, arms crossed over his chest. 

The branch Lúcio's standing on is about as wide as his own bicep, practically a twig if he takes the size of the rest of the tree into account. It's criss-crossed with several others, making for a decently stable floor. The one Genji's chosen is half that width, very few supporting twigs to speak of, and bowed under the cyborg's weight. 

Lúcio rocks back on his heels, then forward onto his toes, silently judging the height and distance he'd have to clear. He looks up, eyes narrowed while Genji stays expectantly still. He'd even bent the branch lower, leaving more than enough space for him to grab.

He dashes forward, jumps, and catches the limb. It dips, and slowly drags back up as Genji moves closer to the trunk. "Hook your heel up there," Genji says, indicating a rough burl about a meter away as Lúcio dangles. "Then grab this one," he adds, stepping on another bough to bring it closer, "and you should be able to stand."

Lúcio does as instructed, resolutely not looking down as he maneuvers himself back upright. 

"Nice work," Genji quips as Lúcio catches his breath, eyes laughing from under the shadow of his helm. "I will be sure to include your performance on my letter of recommendation."

* * *

Genji stops two lines of trees away from the beach, clambering across no fewer than a dozen branches to find one sturdy enough to accommodate five Starfleet officers and whatever supplies they'll be beaming down. Good sightlines to the Ferengi encampment are a must, as well as cover from above. Lúcio sits, legs crossed under him in a well-camouflaged cluster of branches, until Genji finally decides on a spot. He contacts Ana first, then sets a small beacon to mark their location.

"I have to retrieve the rest of our team," he tells Lúcio, extending a hand to pull him up on the approved limb. "Stay here, and take inventory of the supplies as they arrive. We may be a while."

"Got it." Lúcio tightens his grip before Genji can pull away, catching his eye when the he looks back in surprise. "Anything I should watch out for?" he asks with a pointed dip of his head, releasing the cyborg's hand. "Any changes I should know about before stuff starts materializing?"

"We will be receiving the cloaking device," Genji says, "food, and an atmospheric condenser for water. Camping supplies as well." He doesn't turn to leave again, waiting patiently for Lúcio to take stock of the situation, though he looks over his shoulder several times toward the direction they'd come from.

He doesn't have to wait long. "I'll start setting up camp," Lúcio decides-- probably the most useful thing he can do without knowing exactly how Reyes and company operate. He adds with a wry grin, "No guarantees I'll have any idea how, though."

"Do your best," quips Genji, squeezing his shoulder. He steps away, and taps the badge pinned to his shirt. "Shimada to Reyes."

> Shoot.

"I've chosen a position. On my way back now."

Reyes's voice is amused, a little out of breath. Lúcio can hear McCree wheezing in the background.

> Didn't lose Lúcio on the way, did you?

"Not for lack of trying," Genji answers, holding Lúcio's gaze and giving him a cheesy wink. "He will be here to receive the supplies."

> Alright, you know where to find us.

Genji ends the transmission. He addresses Lúcio again, this time serious. "Are you armed?"

"Got the phaser," says Lúcio, brandishing the weapon, "and my equipment's coming down with the rest of the stuff."

"The phaser should be all right for now." Stepping lightly, Genji hops off the branch, their headquarters for the foreseeable future, and turns around. "If something happens, do not hesitate to call."

Glowing particles materialize near the trunk of the tree, and a beep from his com alerts Lúcio to an incoming message from Ana. He sends Genji off with a wave, turning toward the beach to accept her call.

* * *

Lúcio takes about ten minutes to sort through and rearrange the supplies. Four days' worth of meals come packaged in individual boxes labeled with their names-- the team had written down their orders during the briefing, to be replicated in bulk and then reconstituted in hot water when it's time to eat them. There includes some sort of a package simply labeled 'TENT', but it looks more like a box with a button on it, one side very slightly curved. Five other little boxes labeled 'COT'. The atmospheric condenser appears to be a miniature version of some sort of office water cooler, but with an open cone on top instead of a plastic bottle.

Lúcio taps his badge. "Santos to Commander Amari," he says. "The tent looks like it's supposed to lean against something?" 

> That's right. Winston tells me that you should set it up against the trunk, and it will expand and camouflage itself.

"Should I wait for Commander Reyes?" Lúcio kneels, inspecting the box, and then loops his fingers through a handle to drag it toward the base of the branch. "Lieutenant Shimada picked this spot."

> Don't worry about that, Lúcio. Gabe trusts Genji's judgment. 

Ana waits patiently as Lúcio hits the button, retreats as it gradually begins to expand, pliable material folding out from the center. A flat metal floor extends sideways over the branch, the bottom bracing itself against the curve of the wood as walls rise out of its edges, slats covering the top. He pokes his head through the front flap, taking in the large open space, built-in lights. A discreet door to a tiny 'bathroom'. A little controller by the door to activate its camouflage mechanism.

"Alright," he reports, "it's up. Putting together the cots now."

> Where's the rest of the team? They should be helping you.

Lúcio scatters all five of the little COT packets around the perimeter of the room, activating them as he goes. "I scouted ahead with Lt. Shimada," he explains, "and he went back for them. Figured I could get started on this in the meantime."

Ana allows a short silence to pass before she activates her com again, a slight hitch in her voice.

> He left you alone?

"I'll be alright," Lúcio assures her. Maybe he shouldn't've told her that-- breaking from protocol might backfire on Reyes, especially if someone on his team is just _telling people_ about it. "No problem," he adds, trying to sound nonchalant. 

Unexpectedly, Ana laughs. Winston's voice rumbles unintelligibly over the transmission.

> Oh, it's not that. He seems to have quite a lot of confidence in you already, Lúcio. Genji never leaves medical personnel by themselves on the field. 

Genji _did_ spend an awful lot of time in sick bay with Zenyatta and Angela; Lúcio just assumed they were good friends, and if they were on the same team it'd make sense for him to focus his attention on them. Lúcio doesn't open the line of communication again, hauling a little packet of blankets and pillows into the tent. "Confidence," he muses. "Really?"

* * *

Reyes takes full control of the situation the moment he sets foot on the home branch, as Lúcio's begun to call it in his head. He quickly investigates the tent, the remaining pile of miscellaneous items, and then addresses Genji, who's chosen a nearby limb to stand on. "The base?"

"Fully obscured from the Ferengi camp."

"Sightlines to the beach."

"It's best from right here," says Genji, pointing to a gap in the leaves, "but I have marked six other positions closer to their camp."

Nodding, Reyes snags a duffel bag out of the remaining equipment and slings it over his shoulder. He ducks into the tent and emerges in body armor, heavy boots, wringing a beanie in his hands before he pulls it on. "I'll take the first shift with Zenyatta," he announces. "Jesse's on second, Lúcio's on third, and Genji's last with me. Get some rest in the meantime."

Zenyatta recalls the orb he'd placed on McCree and shifts it to Reyes istead. "I am prepared to begin, Commander."

"Anyone hungry?" McCree pipes up, the first words he'd said after the rote greeting when he'd arrived. He doesn't look nauseated by the height anymore, the tan returning to his complexion as the cold sweat recedes. "'Cause I am downright famished right now."

Genji turns to him instantly, eyes narrowed. He drops into an easy crouch, silent as he tries to recall the supplies list that he'd helped finalized the day before. "Peanut butter and banana sandwiches again?" he teases, chuckling when McCree points an accusatory finger at him. "Any genetic experiments you haven't told us about?"

"I saw Winston in the mess hall the other day, it ain't bad."

"There is also 'Texas barbecue'," says Genji as McCree makes his way to the pallet of meals, "and 'mole'."

"I'm gonna go with the sandwich."

"Shimada," Reyes cuts in before they can begin another round, "get started on the cameras."

Lúcio watches the cyborg jump to the home branch, kick off his shoes and shrug out of his shirt, exchanging the red command uniform for a slightly over-sized grey hoodie out of Reyes's bag. "Need a hand?" he offers, absently aware of McCree doing the same behind him, shedding Starfleet threads for body armor and camouflage. 

"I appreciate the offer, Lúcio, but it's not necessary." Genji gives him a cheeky wave, and disappears into the foliage.

"If you could assist me in establishing the command center," Zenyatta tells him, no doubt attuned to his need to contribute _something_ on his first away mission, "that would be a great help."

* * *

Three hours with McCree in the dead of night pass uneventfully. They make deliberately light conversation, both of them in collapsible lawn chairs with a table between them, eyes on the six monitors tracking Ferengi movements while they sleep. Jesse doesn't ask many questions, and Lúcio extends the same courtesy to him; the Ferengi are painfully uninteresting, so Jesse produces a pack of cards to pass the time. A few rounds of poker later, Lúcio's claimed half the deck to practice sleight-of-hand tricks, and McCree's shifted his seat back, flinging the rest of them one by one into his hat.

It's nearly morning by the time Genji comes to relieve McCree, sneaking up behind the other officer and flipping his chair back, catching him by the shoulders before he can tumble fully out of his seat. Jesse wraps one wide arm around Genji's neck, hauling him down, and they struggle for a few seconds before Genji taps out.

"Hate when you do that," McCree says, laughing. He swipes up his hat as he stands and dumps out the cards, tipping it at Lúcio before he plops it back on his head and elbows Genji in the ribs on his way toward the tent.

"Sitrep?" Genji asks as he takes McCree's spot and collects the cards. The cyborg's left off his faceplate and his helm, dark, upswept brows visible under the prominent ridges on his forehead. He looks at Lúcio, expectant, and absently cuts the deck with one hand.

Lúcio hands him the rest, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees to begin the briefing. "Well," he says, "a lot has happened. The guy on monitor two has turned over twice. My friend on the left side of monitor three is gassy, and the guy on his right has had a wedgie for about an hour and a half. I didn't even know the Ferengi could get wedgies, and I wish I still didn't." 

"You have had a long night," Genji observes, voice dry. 

Lúcio laughs, nodding. He stretches his arms, rolls his shoulders, unclips and reties his locs. "The Cixin is tracking their ship in orbit," he adds, yawning. "Nothing's happened on their end, either."

Genji nods. He looks down at his hands, shuffles one more time, and sets the cards back on the table between them. "If you would like to rest," he offers, "I can wake you if something happens."

"I'm on watch with you," Lúcio says, firm. "I'll see it through."

Genji acquiesces, but he glances over his shoulder toward their tent, where the rest of the team is sleeping, and then faces Lúcio again. "Protocol is less of a priority on missions with Reyes," he says slowly. More a confirmation than an explanation; he knows Lúcio's noticed their changing out of Starfleet uniform and done the same himself, distanced themselves from the Federation as much as possible. "More important to be at your peak condition, and that includes rest."

Lúcio leans over, sliding his hand across the table to catch Genji's wrist, marred skin warm under the pads of his fingers. He ignores the wary, instantly hostile look on the cyborg's face and asks, "How'd you get mixed up with Section 31, lieutenant?"

Strange that he'd never heard of Genji before his transfer to the Cixin, considering the company he keeps on the ship. No record of him at Starfleet Academy, nothing in the news or personnel records about his relationship to Hanzo Shimada. On official Starfleet record, there are no recorded instances of Romulan officers currently on active duty. 

Lúcio expects a denial, some sort of deflection, but Genji just snorts, his mouth skewing sideways in a bitter smirk. "Just how it turned out," he answers. 

"I heard a bit about what happened from Angela." Lúcio proceeds cautiously, releasing him and giving him a sympathetic smile. "But I don't think it was the whole story."

Genji doesn't answer, but he meets Lúcio's eyes and holds his gaze. His expression is flat, calculating.

"I mean," Lúcio drawls, "we _are_ stalking Hanzo Shimada."

"It's a long story. I will not bore you it."

The tone leaves no room for argument. Lúcio purses his lips. He'd clearly touched on a nerve-- everything he's seen of Genji indicated a private, if friendly, officer, and he hadn't hesitated to reveal information that could be useful on the assignment. Details about himself seem to be off-limits, though Lúcio can't help the curiosity. "Well, if you ever feel like talking," he offers, backing away from that particular precipice, "I'll be here to listen. It's sorta what I do."

Genji glances at the monitors, scanning them for a second before focusing back on Lúcio. What Lúcio had said wasn't an unintentional slip, but a pointed bit of information-- offered in exchange for the prying. "An El-Aurian?" Genji murmurs, voice low. "Does Reyes know?"

"Honestly? I have no idea." Lúcio sinks back into his seat, hand crossing over his chest to cover the tattoo on his bicep, thumb tracing its edge. "I'm not that old, though, and my dad's human. Never seen the El-Aurian homeworld, but I did live in Rio de Janeiro for a couple years."

Softly, "Have you encountered the Borg?"

"Not personally." Lúcio looks sideways at Genji, eyes the visible machinery embedded in his body. "But speaking of Borg..."

"Yes." Romulans, among other Romulans, value fairness. Having not been around any others for a significant amount of time, Genji extends his organic hand, turning it palm-side down to show Lúcio the port on his forearm, where tubing had been connected while he assimilated the cybernetics. "Dr. Ziegler used Borg technology to reconstruct parts of my body," he explains, something about his tone and expression hinting at regret. "Is that going to be a problem for you, Lúcio?"

Having grown up hearing horror stories of the Borg, of their indiscriminate assimilation, how they'd wiped out so many of his El-Aurian ancestors, Lúcio closes his eyes and inhales. He breathes out after a couple seconds, meeting Genji's expectant stare with a smile of his own. "Nah," he says, sincerely, "I'm just glad _something_ good came from the collective."

**Author's Note:**

> i'm kinda picturing blackwatch era headgear/modern day color scheme for genji (': set just before TNG, i think.
> 
> (cixin is named after the author of the novel 'three body problem', and 'aguilera' is the name of the creator of the brazilian scifi show '3%')


End file.
